Authors: Kathryn Smith
He stepped back toward the balcony doors, the pistol unwavering and fully loaded. “You miscalculated, Magus. I’m ending this engagement, but this isn’t over. I’m not going to let you take the Grail—Holy or Unholy—and I will not let you use Temple in your quest for power.”
The smile the man gave him was smug and tinted with blood. “And how will you stop me, Mr. Grey? You don’t have the power.”
Marcus stepped out onto the balcony. It would be a quick slide down the trellis to the ground and the car he had waiting on the street below.
“I don’t need power,” he replied, flashing a grin as he swung one leg over the railing. “I have Chapel.”
“What I want to know, Mr. Chapel, is how you knew where my daughter would be at such an ungodly hour.”
Were it not for the smile on Thomas Ryland’s face, Prudence might have worried for the man being asked that question. Chapel merely grinned. “It seemed only logical given Miss Ryland’s natural curiosity, sir.”
Even Prudence had to laugh at that. “Are you implying that I am nosy, Chapel?” She didn’t care how much he teased her, it was just so wonderful to see him again. So wonderful to know he was all right.
He was all mock innocence. “Of course not, Miss Ryland. It would be boorish of me to do so.”
Their gazes locked for a moment—long enough to make Pru’s insides melt—and then her father spoke again.
“Well, I, for one, am very glad you came along when you did. Thank you for risking your own safety to bring her back to us.”
Her father looked close to tears and now so was she. Her sisters were decidedly emotional as well. None of them were ready to say good-bye, not yet.
His expression decidedly sober, Chapel inclined his head toward her father. “I did it gladly, sir. And I would again.”
There was nothing but utter honesty in his tone. He meant what he said. He would risk personal injury to protect her. Why? He had been burned by the sun in saving her—at least that’s what Georgiana had heard. His condition had made saving her dangerous for himself, and yet he had done it.
That he had risked himself for her made her chest tight in a way she didn’t want to ponder. The backs of her eyes prickled with tears of gratitude and affection.
Yes, affection. She liked Chapel. She more than liked him. Her every day brightened as the sun began to set, knowing that she was about to see him. She was attracted to him, interested in him as a person, and now that he had proven himself a hero, she was very much in danger of becoming completely infatuated with him. This was not good. Liking him, even being intimate with him, was one thing, but becoming attached…well, that could just be painful for everyone.
Speaking of painful, Marcus hadn’t joined them for dinner. In fact, Pru hadn’t seen him since her “accident.” Was he blaming himself for what had happened? Or was he truly as busy as Caroline said he claimed? She hoped it wasn’t the former. It wasn’t his fault she had been hurt. She had gone to the ruins of her own volition, well aware of the risks.
Or was he simply avoiding having to tell her
that all hope was lost? It wasn’t a possibility she wanted to dwell on, but she had to accept that it might be true. She had to accept that she was going to die before ever sprouting a gray hair or lines around her eyes, all those things that had terrified her in her youth and now she’d give anything to live to experience.
It would have been so amazing to have found the Holy Grail, to have held that legend in her hands.
But she wasn’t dead yet, so she wasn’t going to act like it. She was tired from her ordeal, her body still somewhat achy and sore, but she sipped at her rich wine and indulged her appetite for rare roast beef and opened herself up to enjoying being with people she cared about. Father Molyneux had told her that eating was one of the best things she could do to regain her strength, and it seemed she had been doing nothing but eating ever since waking.
After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room, where they were joined a bit later by the gentlemen. As soon as Chapel entered the room, Prudence beckoned him to her. Matilda rose from her seat beside Pru so that Chapel could take it, and left them in privacy, gently brushing her hand against Pru’s cheek before doing so.
Chapel took the vacated seat, his long, muscular frame settling beside her with grace and ease. This love seat was supposed to hold two people comfortably. There was no comfort in sitting this close to Chapel.
Good gracious, but he looked fine in his evening clothes!
She placed her hand over the one he rested on his thigh. His skin was warm and firm. She could feel the strength in his fingers. “I want to thank you personally for saving my life.”
He looked uncomfortable and stared at her hand as though he weren’t certain what it was. She didn’t remove it, however.
“Please don’t. As far as I am concerned, there was no other choice.” His gaze met hers. “I did what was right, not something that I wanted recognition for.”
Was he being humble, or was he trying to dismiss her? His tone wasn’t cruel, but neither was it as warm as she might have hoped. “Right or no, it means something to me and so I thank you for it.”
His head dipped in a sharp nod. “Then you are welcome.”
Silence followed as they stared at one another. She could stare into those pale golden eyes of his forever and not grow tired of it.
She broke the silence a few seconds later. “I hope you are not suffering any long-term effects of your heroism?”
He shook his head. “I am fine.”
And he certainly looked it. Other than a little high color in his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, he didn’t look any the worse for wear. Then again, she looked surprisingly well for someone who had been poisoned such a short time ago.
“How did you get the poison out of me?” The question was out before she could think of a less blunt way to phrase it.
He didn’t even blink. “I sucked it out.”
Oh. Dear. Fire ignited in her cheeks as her hand pressed against the silk covering her breast. It was still a little tender and bruised, but the wound was almost completely healed—which was odd. He had
sucked
it out?
She glanced away. Could he see how he affected her? They were talking about him saving her life and she was aroused by it!
And she was amazed by it. Not only had he risked sunlight for her, but he had risked ingesting some of that awful poison as well. It was more than she could ever hope to repay.
Composing herself, she faced him once more. “Again, you put yourself at risk for me.”
He turned his hand over, so that her palm rested against his. His hands were so long that the ends of his fingers could curl over hers. It was an interesting—and strangely intimate—sensation. “You seem to find that strange.”
“I do. In my experience, people are often reluctant to risk their own safety for someone else.”
“Not just anyone.” He tilted his head as though surprised that he had to explain himself.
“You.”
There was that heat again. Was she reading too much into his words, or did he truly think of her as something special? “You are making me blush.”
A whisper of a smile curved his sensual lips. “I am too bold. Forgive me.”
“I would much rather you continue.” There. She could be bold as well. Perhaps it was time to allow her own feelings to come out. What was the purpose in hiding her regard?
Chapel’s smile grew—in breadth and seductiveness. “Very well.”
More silence, this time all the more heated and electric for their reckless confessions.
“Did you look around the cellar?” The question was sure to kill this intimacy between them, but she needed to ask this question before she could go on to make her request of him.
As she suspected, his expression sobered. “Briefly.”
She straightened her spine. “It wasn’t there, was it?”
A second passed—an eternity. She didn’t have to explain what “it” was, did she?
He shook his head. The pity—no, not pity,
sorrow
—in his eyes answered her question. “No. I’ll look again, I promise.”
She knew he didn’t expect to find it. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Shouldn’t make her want to cry so hard. “You know why I wanted to find it now, don’t you?”
This time he nodded. “Yes.”
“It wasn’t for recognition or fame or even satisfaction.” Why was she saying all of this when it wasn’t necessary? He knew why she wanted the Grail, she could see that from the sadness in his eyes.
Tears threatened again, but she blinked them away. “I didn’t want immortality or even fame. I just want to live the span of a normal life.”
His fingers fully closed around hers. He didn’t seem to care that it wasn’t proper or that others
might see. “You deserve no less. Were it in my power to grant your wish, I would.”
And she saw the truth in his eyes. “You are a lovely man, Chapel.”
He removed his hand, emotionally withdrawing from her as well as physically. “I am not lovely. You do not know the things I have done.”
Not content to let him go, Pru seized his fingers in her own. “I do not care what you have done in the past. All that concerns me is what you have done for me. I would ask more of you if you will allow me.”
Dark gold brows knitted. “I will do all that I can.”
Pru’s heart hammered like the pounding hooves of a galloping stallion. He couldn’t possibly know what she was going to ask of him, and yet he offered himself freely.
“Do you drive, Chapel?”
He arched a brow. “You mean drive an automobile? Yes, I can drive.”
“Will you teach me?” Surely her father wouldn’t deny her the Daimler if Chapel was with her. As far as her father was concerned, Chapel could do no wrong now.
And it was something she had wanted to learn to do ever since her father arrived home with the Daimler. It would be fun, something to take her mind off things. She spent too much time in her own head and not enough time out in the world.
He shrugged, relief coloring his features. Had
he thought she might ask for something more personal? “Of course.”
Pru smiled. “Thank you.” That hadn’t been so difficult. Perhaps soon she’d work up the courage to ask him to go share secrets and dreams with her.
Perhaps by then it would be easy to ask him to make love to her.
“D
id you find anything?” Molyneux asked after thirty minutes of silence.
Chapel pulled the tapestry over the tunnel entrance and brushed the dirt and debris from his trousers. “Nothing. Temple obviously used the tunnel as a way in and out of the cellar but nothing else.”
The tunnel led to the beach, to a secluded location near the base of the cliffs. It was high enough off the ground to prevent humans from climbing in and dangerous-looking enough to be uninviting. No wonder Temple had chosen this spot as a hideaway.
The little cell was surprisingly clean and free of dust, which meant that Temple had been living there recently. The vampire’s scent still lingered
in the air, which meant that he had been there prior to Pru’s accident.
But it was no accident. The poison might not have been meant for Pru specifically, in fact Chapel doubted it was, but the trap had definitely been meant for intruders. Had Temple set it? Probably, given that the poison was the same they had encountered centuries before. Either that or whoever came for Temple was descended from those ancient Templars. Both explanations seemed somewhat improbable, but not impossible. And one of them had to be true.
Chapel squatted near the bed to get a better look at the weapon used. A small wire across the dirt floor proved to be the trigger for the dart that had hit Pru. She had obviusly tripped it when she went to investigate the dead man. It wasn’t a sophisticated setup. And yet, whoever had left the body had probably done so knowing that whoever found it would be poisoned.
Perhaps it had been meant for him.
“Did you accompany Grey when he disposed of the body?”
Molyneaux paused in his search for a hidden compartment in the floor. He dropped the corner of the rug and coughed on the dust it stirred. “I will be honest: though God may judge me for it one day, I was too concerned with your recovery and that of Miss Ryland to worry about what Mr. Grey did with a man who may have played a part in nearly killing you both.”
Chapel rose to his feet. “Or may have abducted Temple.” The idea of anyone kidnapping the
vampire was ludicrous, but not impossible, especially if they knew what they were doing and what they were up against.
That was the theory that frightened him. Had Temple been abducted, or had he made a quick getaway after killing the intruder? There were signs that could confirm either theory, such as the dead man. There had been a struggle, but it didn’t look as though anything—or anyone—had been dragged through the entrance, nor had anyone used that passage recently.
But vampires, as stealthy as they could be, didn’t just disappear. And unless Temple had learned some new skills, there was no way he could have flown out of such a confined space.
Realistically it made more sense that Temple had simply escaped, but evidence—and his gut—told Chapel that his friend had not left this cellar willingly, or on his own. Which meant that whoever did this had incapacitated Temple and simply removed him from the cellar like a sack of potatoes.
“I do not like this,” Molyneux remarked, easing himself into a rough-hewn chair with a sigh.
“I don’t either.” A glimmer of gold caught Chapel’s eye and he reached for it, careful to be sure there wasn’t another tripwire ready to release a hidden dart. A simple gold band sat on the small stand beside the cot. He recognized it instantly.
It was the ring Temple’s wife had given him.
Chapel held it up as he turned to the priest. “He would not leave willingly without this.”
Molyneux rubbed his forehead with trembling
fingers. “Who would have the strength to take Temple?”
The ring slid easily onto the ring finger of Chapel’s right hand. He was not going to leave the ring there for thieves. He would give it back to Temple himself once he found him. “It would have to be a group who knew what they were dealing with. The question is, how did they know?”
“I may be able to answer that.”
Marcus’s arrival wasn’t a surprise to Chapel, as he had heard him coming, but his statement was unexpected.
As unexpected as the scent of blood and rage clinging to him. Chapel’s eyes narrowed as he watched the young man enter the cellar, into the pool of lamplight that illuminated the interior. Something had happened to change Marcus Grey. The scholar was looking a little more warriorlike.
“They knew because I told them.” Marcus continued, “In fact, I’m pretty much responsible for all of this.”
Black rage darkened the edges of Chapel’s vision. The audacity of this pup to stand before him, knowing what he was, and to take responsibility for what had happened to Pru.
He actually growled at Marcus. It made him feel like little more than an animal. “Give me a reason not to kill you.”
The young man’s voice didn’t even tremble. “I can’t make things right if I’m dead.”
No, but it might make Chapel feel better. “You think you can make things right alive?”
Marcus looked him squarely in the eye. “I don’t know, but I want to try.”
“Try isn’t good enough for Pru.” He ground his teeth together. His fangs scratched the inside of his lip. All it would take was one strong rip and Marcus Grey would be no more.
And Pru would hate him for it.
“I never promised to save her. I offered to help her save herself. Try was all I offered and all she asked.” He lifted his chin. “Tell me, Mr. Immortal Being, what have you offered her? Certainly not your blood?”
“Mon Dieu,”
Molyneux whispered. Chapel heard it despite the roaring in his ears.
“What do you know of my blood?” Surely he wasn’t hinting that Chapel should change her? By God, he was. He had hinted at it before, had he not?
Marcus shrugged as though it should be obvious. “I’ve researched your kind ever since I first heard the stories about Dreux. I know that your blood would save Prudence.”
“It would stop her from dying, but it won’t ‘save’ her.” What an idiot this boy was. Was that why he had brought Pru into this cellar that night? Had he known of the trap?
Chapel moved closer to Marcus. The younger man didn’t budge, but Chapel could smell his wariness. “Did you bring her here hoping to find the Blood Grail?”
“I brought her so that if either Grail were here she would be able to decide for herself whether or not to use it.”
He shouldn’t be as astonished as he was. “Even the Blood Grail?”
Marcus nodded. “I assumed you wouldn’t change her, but if given the choice, she might decide to save herself.”
“Save herself? Have you lost your mind?” How could Grey have entertained such a notion? “If anything, it will damn her soul.”
Grey looked at him as though Chapel were the idiot of the two of them. “Where did you get that idea?”
“Vampires are a demonic race, my dear boy.”
Grey shrugged. “I prefer to look at them as the descendants of Adam’s first wife and a fallen angel, but if you want to make them demons, go ahead.”
“Is there a difference? Fallen is fallen, and both Lilith and Sammael were that.”
“They were also both created by God,” Marcus argued. “Falling to darkness doesn’t change that. Even Lucifer is still an angel.”
Molyneux spoke up. “On any other day I would love to debate these issues with you, Mr. Grey, but we do not have time. Please, tell us what you know.”
Chapel watched warily as the young man swung himself up onto the table where Molyneux sat. He could rip Grey’s throat out for putting Pru in danger, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it—partially because he knew Grey might still be of some use to them, and partially because he wanted to believe some of what the young man was saying. Perhaps if he heard it from enough
sources, he might eventually be able to hope, to believe that salvation was possible for him.
“Some time ago I was approached by a man who had heard of my interest in Dreux Beauvrai. He was very knowledgeable about the six of you.” He nodded at Chapel. “He also knew about the legend of the Blood Grail. In fact, he claimed to know where it was hidden.”
“What was this man’s name?”
“I knew him only as Magus. He is the leader of an order of mages called the Silver Palm.”
The Silver Palm. Chapel had heard of them before in whispers and old texts. They named themselves for the silver that crossed the palm of Judas Iscariot—coin imbued with the essence of Lilith, mother of all vampires. The same silver that had been melted down to make the chalice from which he and the others had drunk.
Christ, were they related to the secret order of Templars that hid the Blood Grail in the first place? And did they have Temple and the Blood Grail?
He tried to keep his panic from showing. “Did he orchestrate you meeting Pru?”
“No. That happened quite by accident, although it was he who encouraged me to entertain her theories. At first I thought she was delusional, but then I found her enthusiasm contagious.”
“I’m sure.” Oh, yes, he could take this man’s head clean off.
Marcus’s gaze was haunted as it met Chapel’s. “I began to believe as well. We became good friends and when I found out she was sick I
decided I would do everything I could to help her find the Grail.” He glanced around the little cell. “I actually thought we might find it, that Magus was the one who was wrong about what lay hidden in the ruins.”
“He wasn’t.” Chapel’s tone was as flat and cold as the stone floor he stood on.
“I began to figure that out as soon as I realized who you were. I assumed you were sent just in case it was the Blood Grail we found. I didn’t tell Magus how close we were to entering the cellar because I wanted to have the advantage, but it seems there was a spy among my crew, because he found out anyway. The man whose body you found with Prudence was one of the order.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Magus sent his men for Temple and the Blood Grail. They were to kill whoever got in their way.”
Silence followed. Chapel eyed him carefully, once more noting the scent of blood upon him. “Where have you been?”
“I took the body of his brethren back to Magus.”
He was either lying or extremely brave—or stupid. “Were you hoping he would kill you before I could?”
“No.” Much to Chapel’s chagrin, Marcus didn’t seem concerned at all for his own life. “I thought I might be able to get some information from him.”
From someone calling himself Magus? A man who was probably a member of the higer tiers of the Silver Palm? Stupid, to be sure. “But you did not.”
“No. Except I know that as of yesterday they hadn’t left England.”
He didn’t bother asking how Marcus had managed to survive the meeting. Either Magus had willingly let him go or Marcus was smarter than Chapel believed him to be. “Do you know where they plan to go?”
“No, but I expect they will send men to kill me before they leave. I’m in hopes that one of them will be persuaded to tell me the order’s location.”
“How do you plan to extract this information?”
A direct blue gaze bore into his. “With your help.”
Chapel laughed—harshly. “Why would I help you?”
“Because if you’re not going to save Pru from death, the least you can do is exact a little vengeance on her behalf.”
In a blink Chapel was on his feet. “I’ve had just about enough of your sanctimonious tone. You know nothing—
nothing
—about what I am, or what it is like to live forever watching people you care about die. Is that what you want for Pru, to have her watch her sisters wither and die?”
Marcus met his gaze evenly. “It is not a question of what I want. The question is, what does Pru want? Have you even offered her the choice?”
Chapel raked a hand through his hair. “Of course not.”
Marcus stood. Chapel was the taller of the two, but Marcus was the more muscular. Were they both human, it would be an equal match.
But they weren’t both human. And Marcus
Grey didn’t seem to care. “Then stop trying to intimidate me with your huffing and puffing, and help me figure out a way to save Pru and her family before dawn.”
Before dawn? That was a little melodramatic, was it not? “What? You want me to change the entire Ryland family now instead of merely Pru?”
“No. I want you to help me protect them from the men who are no doubt on their way to Rosecourt even as we speak.” Marcus shoved past him. “You don’t think they intend to let any of the Rylands—any of
us
—live, do you?”